Mistaken
by ANGSWIN
Summary: Neither Sherlock nor Hermione are eager to find the person whose first words to them will be the ones that are written on their forearms...Soulmate AU...Written for the April 2018 Roll-A-Drabble challenge


_Written for the April Roll-a-Drabble challenge at Hermione's Haven_

 _First roll: Pairing: Hermione/Sherlock_  
 _Second Roll: Trope: Soulmates_  
 _Word Count: 100 to 1000_

* * *

 **Mistaken**

As usual, Sherlock Holmes closely observed the lovely Hermione Granger from across the crime scene. He also listened intently to her conversation as she talked animatedly to John and Lestrade. Her obvious intelligence and the mystery that surrounded her still intrigued him, just as it had six months ago when she had made her first appearance as the MLE Liaison...whatever that meant. When Sherlock went to his brother for information, though, Mycroft had simply advised him to stay away from her. Normally, this would not have deterred the detective at all. However, in this case, he had _still_ not spoken to the woman, nor her to him. In fact, he had actually rebuffed her very first attempt to do so, when he turned and walked away upon her eager arrival. After her initial confusion, she had taken the hint graciously and had not approached him again. For that, he was grateful because as long as she never spoke to him...he could fool himself.

He paused and tugged up the cuff of the long sleeved shirt that covered his forearm. At the sight of the neat feminine script that he saw there, the first words that his supposed soulmate would say to him, his resolve hardened and he drew the sleeve back down firmly. Ms. Granger might be the most fascinating woman that he had never _quite_ met, but she was apparently not the one that the universe had chosen for him. After all, he could never imagine a situation in which she would say the words that had made John laugh so hysterically the first time that he had seen them. Consequently, Sherlock kept them covered so that he could pretend that the words…and the woman who would say them…just did not exist. That way he could focus on _her,_ instead.

John soon headed back in Sherlock's direction. He saw more than the detective gave him credit for and he realized that his friend's apparent aversion to Hermione was really a front, conscious or not, to disguise his attraction for her. After all, he had seen Sherlock's soulmate words…and they both knew that someone as professional and goodhearted as Hermione would probably not say them. It was a shame, though, because those two brilliant people would have been perfect for each other.

Sherlock saw John's approach, but did not acknowledge it. Instead, he watched anxiously as the woman left the scene. He was rewarded for his patience when, as usual, she paused to throw a glance back at him that was accompanied by a slight nod. He reciprocated the action and then turned back to John with the hint of a smile on his face.

* * *

Hermione sighed as she undressed for bed. As she pulled off her long sleeve blouse, she thought about how nice it must be to wear normal summer clothing. _Never gonna happen_ , she thought sadly as she looked at her forearms. On one, the _Mudblood_ carving still taunted her. On the other, the messily scrawled soulmate words did not inspire much confidence that her perfect mate would be a man of intelligence as she had hoped…and it was clear that he was not going to be a wizard, either. Therefore, she kept both of her arms covered when out in public. She did not want to be pitied for either of them.

As she slipped into bed, however, her mind was full of _him_. The aloof, but gorgeous, detective fascinated her more than she wished. Mycroft had once told her that his brother was trouble and he advised her to stay away from the man. She was well acquainted with trouble, however, and had still been eager to meet the younger Holmes – especially after she had read the incredible stories on John's blog. Unfortunately, Sherlock always kept his distance and would never speak to her. On the first occasion, she had been hurt by his apparent rejection. She soon came to appreciate his actions, though, because if they never spoke, then she could still _dream._ She could not help but to wonder if that was his motive, as well…especially when she noticed the way his eyes always searched for and followed her…and the way that he eavesdropped on her conversations…at any crime scene where they were both present.

* * *

Their careful avoidance and wistfulness could have lasted indefinitely if he had not accidently seen her on the street one night by herself. He did not know why she was exiting the empty dead-end alleyway, but he did know why the two men started to follow her soon afterwards…their intentions were clear. Therefore, Sherlock rushed to protect her. Before he could say or do anything, however, she turned around and whipped out a thin stick. _"Stupefy!"_ she exclaimed. _"Incarcerous!"_ With a flash of light, the predators immediately hit the ground, stunned and trussed. Only then did Sherlock speak.

"You're a witch…and that is your wand!" he exclaimed with surprise and a uncharacteristically dazed look.

"No shit, Sherlock!" she replied back with a cheeky grin at hearing a genius like him say something so mundane.

Just then they both froze in shock as they realized _exactly_ what had just been said as they felt the black words on their forearms _finally_ sear into red.

Sherlock immediately regained control of himself, strode to her quickly, and gathered her into his arms to kiss her wonderingly. "For all of these years, you must have thought that I was going to be a complete idiot for stating the obvious like that," he murmured apologetically against her lips.

"I didn't have much hope," she admitted sheepishly, "and you must have thought that I was going to be so crass and rude to say such a thing to you."

"Only on this one occasion, then," Sherlock muttered happily and finally smiled as he took her hand and led her towards Baker Street, "I am grateful that we both seem to have been mistaken!"


End file.
